


altitude sickness

by leoandsnake



Series: frat bros [2]
Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Argestes, Complicated Dynamics, Drug Use, Erectile Dysfunction, M/M, Manipulation, PTSD Kendall, bad vibes all around, handjob, sex in a tent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21729451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leoandsnake/pseuds/leoandsnake
Summary: “Us?” Stewy sits up and tugs his boxers back on, so he’s no longer lying prone under Kendall with his used-up dick out. “Us as in you and your dad, the guy who pissed on your office carpet because he was walking around tripping balls from having no oxygen in his brain and the one earthly thing he could remember was that he hates you? That guy?”
Relationships: Stewy Hosseini/Kendall Roy
Series: frat bros [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566478
Comments: 18
Kudos: 125





	altitude sickness

Scattered around Argestes are what the staff call relaxation pods. They’re Nest-connected and cushion-filled tents big enough for a grown man to stand up in. Everyone in attendance has mostly been doing coke in them, and calling them teepees, even though you’re not supposed to. The organizers are concerned about the optics of that. 

There’s one close to Kendall’s room, on a deck overlooking the mountains, and after the spectacle with Nan that's where he heads. He’s hoping to happen upon someone doing coke who’s willing share a bump. It’s a vestigial impulse, though. He doesn’t need to numb the sting of defeat. Every neuron in his brain and muscle in his body is already numb.

Kendall unzips the tent. Some warm air escapes, and he bends over, glancing inside. To his surprise, he makes eye contact with Stewy, who’s sitting on the floor with huge pupils. 

“Shit,” Kendall says. “Uh, sorry. I’ll, uh…”

“Wait,” Stewy says, putting a hand up. “Time-out from business, please? Just come chill for a second.”

Logan wouldn’t like this, but he isn’t around to countermand the order, so Kendall mutely enters the tent and sits cross-legged the way Stewy is. It’s very warm in here. He takes his Patagonia off.

“D’you have coke?” Kendall says. “You look high.”

Stewy sniffs. “I took molly.”

“ _Molly_? That’s not your drug of choice.”

“Some girl at the Argies gave it to me. I like free shit.”

“You sure it was molly?”

“No,” Stewy admits, and they laugh. “You want a blowjob? I need to do something with my mouth, I keep grinding my teeth.”

“I'll go find you a baby pacifier,” Kendall says. "Then we can trade kandi."

Stewy flashes said teeth at him. “So what’s your dad’s plan for tomorrow morning? Is he gonna try to buy Google and smack Larry Page in the mouth when he says no? Is he gonna throw up at breakfast again?”

“I thought you said no business.”

“You stupid-ass. You actually thought I meant that?”

“I’ll leave,” Kendall threatens.

“Then leave,” Stewy shrugs.

Kendall doesn’t move. It’s just really warm in here, is the thing.

“I’ve been having trouble getting hard lately,” he says, “but I can blow you, if you want.”

“Okay,” Stewy says. He unzips his jeans and starts tugging them off, revealing long johns underneath.

“Dude,” Kendall says. “Long johns?”

“I’m cold, limpdick! It’s cold up here. It’s a mountain.”

“Your dick must be, like, pickled in sweat.”

“Yeah, enjoy.”

They have to wrestle a little to get into a good position, bumping into the sides of the tent as they do. The close proximity to each other’s faces and Stewy’s greedy ecstasy-fueled groping of Kendall lead to them kissing.

Stewy’s mouth tastes like gum and they both smell strongly of woodsmoke. The combined sensations prickle at Kendall’s nostrils as he slides his hands up under Stewy’s layered sweaters, palming his stomach and chest, wanting to feel warm flesh. He’s feverishly hot to the touch from the molly. Stewy shivers and wriggles under him, then scrapes his beard against Kendall’s cheek. 

“Are you hard?” Kendall whispers, nuzzling his neck. He wets his lips so they aren’t so dry. 

“Yeah,” Stewy admits. “You’re not?”

“I would be if I could be.” Kendall tugs Stewy’s boxers down toward his knees. “Honestly, do you care if I just jerk you off? ‘Cos I —“

“I don’t care what you do, dude, just do it.”

“Okay,” Kendall says amiably, and he starts to give Stewy a workmanlike handjob as they kiss deeply. 

The back of his neck is tingling with the urge to fuck Stewy, to thrust inside him while he pleasures him with his hand, but that would be a tremendously stupid idea even if his dick was working. Which luckily it isn’t. For once it’s outsmarted him. 

Kendall compromises by shoving his tongue into Stewy’s mouth, and Stewy shoves back. They start dry humping each other, even as Kendall’s hand is moving steadily up and down his shaft like a very fast elevator, the muffled sounds of moans and groans and cries swallowed in each other’s mouths. Kendall’s limp dick keeps occasionally throbbing, but is otherwise unreactive — a passive spectator in his jeans.

Stewy separates their mouths, a string of saliva clinging on as he does, connecting them. “I’m gonna come,” he rasps in Kendall’s ear, then bites his earlobe.

“Okay,” Kendall murmurs, kissing the pounding pulse in Stewy’s throat. Blood is moving through that artery, hard and fast.

If he wanted to, he could strangle him right here in this tent and end the proxy fight in a hurry. This thought comes and then goes as quick as it came. Something about the accident has warped Kendall’s mind; the proximity to death, the act of causing a death, has filled his head with disturbing realizations that plague him from moment to moment. _I could stab Dad with this steak knife. I could jump in front of that car. I could jump off this roof._ When he was lying on the floor the other day, and Shiv walked by in stilettos: _Shiv could step on my throat and puncture my trachea._ Kendall feels like a feral prey animal now, a perpetually agitated creature with too much awareness for his own good. 

When Stewy comes, he groans softly and lets his head fall back onto a pillow, his thigh muscles spasming. Kendall looks around for something to wipe the semen on his hand with and eventually settles for just wiping it on a pillow. There’s probably already jizz on it anyway. He’s sure people have been fucking in these tents all weekend.

“What is this crazy hard-on you have for my dad?” Kendall says to Stewy. Stewy doesn’t respond at first, so he nudges him hard with a knee, rousing him from his orgasm. “This is all just business. That’s what you said when we were planning the bear hug.”

Stewy sighs. “Yeah, and what happened to the bear hug, Ken?” he says, his tone obnoxious. “What happened with that? Your dad got you alone for ten minutes and you turned around and fucked me in the back of the head. And now you can’t even look me in the eye. Fuck you and your creepy dad.”

“I can look you in the eye,” Kendall mumbles. 

“Yeah? Then do it.”

Kendall tries, he really does. He lifts his gaze and connects with Stewy’s for a good two or three seconds. But that dark laser stare and the knowing, disappointed set of his mouth is too much. His gut churns with heat and he looks away.

“See?” Stewy says, sounding more sad than angry. 

“You need to be careful,” Kendall says, staring at the crimson tent floor. “My dad isn’t going to let this happen. I know you think things look bad for us right now with cruises, but you don’t know him like I do. He’ll do anything —“

“Oh, I know,” Stewy says, rolling his eyes. “I know, you already gave me the whole dead-eyed dead-dicked speech — he’ll send guys to climb in my window and spit on my toothbrush, and shoot my girlfriend and fuck my dog, whatever, I don’t have a _dog_ , I’m Iranian. Ken, I don’t care. I’m trying to ask you what’s wrong with you as a friend, here, and you’re giving me the shareholder run-around.”

“Whatever I say, you’ll just take back to Sandy and use it against us.”

“ _U_ _s_?” Stewy sits up and tugs his boxers back on, so he’s no longer lying prone under Kendall with his used-up dick out. “Us as in you and your dad, the guy who pissed on your office carpet because he was walking around tripping balls from having no oxygen in his brain and the one earthly thing he could remember was that he hates you? That guy?”

“Yep. Us. So...”

“You can still get out. You get that, right? You can still get off the sinking ship, Ken. Do the smart thing. Come get your money so you can get out of there.”

“I think it’s a matter of opinion whose ship is sinking,” Kendall says coolly. 

“Oh, I think it’s yours,” Stewy says. “I think the ship that had dead women thrown overboard, and now the whole world knows — that’s the one that’s sinking, bro.”

Kendall stands up, his head brushing against the top of the tent. “I gotta go,” he says. 

“Kendall,” Stewy says, incredulous again, just like last time they tried to have this conversation. Except this time he’s sitting on the floor with his own come splattered on his legs and sweater. 

Insofar as Kendall can feel things anymore, he does feel bad for Stewy, so he has to get out of here before he says anything stupid. “I gotta go, man. Look, I’ll see you around. Your Cobb salad joke was funny, by the way.” 

“Fuck you, no it wasn’t,” Stewy says, looking appalled. “You robot. Say one normal thing, please.”

“Go Knicks,” Kendall says, and starts to unzip the tent door.

Stewy just sits there for a second looking furious, then picks up one of his shoes and throws it at Kendall. It hits him (not very hard) in the back of the knee. 

“Uh, what the hell, man?” Kendall says.

“Go,” Stewy snaps. “Go crawl back in bed with your daddy. Get out of here.”

“Dude —“

Stewy picks up his other shoe, and Kendall climbs hurriedly out of the tent, tripping and falling onto the deck. The wood underneath him is slick and wet with frost; it quickly soaks through the knees of his pants before he can scramble back to his feet. 

“Get some therapy, Kendall,” Stewy shouts after him as he’s walking away, zipping up his jacket. 


End file.
